It’s here. Breathing. Living. Within your inner cavities. Dead again. Silence within the surfacing. A dystopian undertaking. Another mindfuck. You will be silenced, or put to death. Which would you prefer? Both are the same. There’s no difference between a lie and false freedom. Both will deceive your inner and outer sights. Can you see yourself living within another’s lie? Neither can I.
Tag: dying
Control
I know there is more you wish you could do, but haven’t you already done enough? There is so much you have tainted within me, just from wanting to help. I know you think you can help, but if you could; would I be dying right now? Right now, the best thing for you to do, is to let the dying die. Allow nature to take its course; allow the death to become a rebirth. Too many people try to inflict their control over the uncontrollable, as this is probably why they participate in such ridiculous activities. Too much control has already been inflicted, as this is why the rebirth must be initiated. A simple trade: a death for a life. A simple trade worth living and dying through.
This Sudden Compulsion
I will sit alone sometimes with the lights turned off; solitarily thinking about my life in the darkness. I will suddenly have a compulsion from within. This sudden compulsion makes me stand upright; wanting to throw myself out into the world. This is when I remember and acknowledge to myself; I have nowhere to go. When I talk to, or approach people is public, a look of dread and fear befalls upon their face; thinking I am death, and I have come to take them away with me. The fear these people display is certainly uncalled for. I am not there to kill them where they stand, as I will more than likely wait until there is no one else around; making sure there are no eye witnesses. Not really. I am actually quite harmless most of the time. But to these people, I do not seem to be. They do not know I am talking to them for some sort of human contact. This contact is not due to loneliness, or attention seeking, on the contrary; I do not need people in my life, and I have never experienced loneliness. I approach these people as a form of practice. By doing so, I do not get rusty when I do need to talk to someone when it is necessary. When I am standing there with the lights off, and this compulsion is running hurriedly through me; I think about going out and rummaging through this disgusting dying world. Once I run through all of my previous experiences of going out into the world; I usually arrive at the same conclusion I have always arrived at: it is all a waste of my precious time. Once I remember my previous outings into society, this is when I sit back down. I will sit there quietly; closing my eyes, thinking and fantasizing about a world which does not reject me, in the way I have come to reject it.
Winter’s Breath
Contained within the blowing breeze, the crisp chill of winter’s breath, breathing through the trees, feeling the Earth’s bodily dirt sift itself through my fingers; this is my eternal home. Although, I am well aware that one day, I will not be standing upon the Earth, as I will find myself lying within its womb. Back from which I came. From life to death, from death to life; another life lived, another death relived. I am still the same from one life to the next. Nothing can change my nature, as I possess the same consciousness from one life to the next. Only the circumstances change, as the air I breathe and my paradigms remain the same. There is nothing new contained within the Sun of a lost and dying age. There is nothing new contained within my thoughts of an undying anger and rage. The confusion is not real, as it is a mechanism designed to sterilize the fertilized womb. This is where regret, chastity, and morality go to slumber in the womb of their tomb. The blowing breeze still calls upon me. I can feel its chilling calls reverberate within my chest cavity. It is the mother’s voice, calling her children home. It is that specific nurturing feeling you know exists within your mind, but have yet to experience it within your heart. Within each incarnation, I search throughout the life I am currently inhabiting, in order to fill this illusive nurturing within my heart. I specifically reincarnate myself and travel from rebirth to rebirth, just to fill the voided hole, which lives deep within my blackened heart. After all of my travels through my incarnations, I am just now beginning to learn how to live with this void within my heart. It is not as bad as you might think it to be, as it has been Æons, since I have not felt pain within my heart. I have now fully come to the understanding in which the void I felt within my heart, no longer requires to be filled from any type of external nurturing. I always thought I needed some type of external fulfilment, but now I have come to the complete understanding, in which I am my own fulfilment, as I require nothing from outside of myself. Within each incarnation into this physical material realm, I am able to forge deeper into my consciousness; communing deeper into my consciousness’s internal nature.
You
There’s no one at the end of the day that is going to make it better for you.
It’s all up to you…
Breath is Completely Overrated
The transition of an internal demolition. Killing the insides, just so you can grasp fragments of the air around you in order to breathe. Breath is completely overrated. Tell that to a drowning victim. In a way, we are all victims; of our decisions, choices, and personal attitudes. When life is suffocating you, and you do not have the internal capacity to breathe, it can be somewhat challenging to see straight. This is especially true if your lenses are dirty, and you need a new prescription. It’s nothing new to me: old hat. These cycles run themselves around my mind, and through my soul. Soul-crushing. A transition’s grin. The depths of insanity. The reality of uncertainty. I still look for that supposed silver lining. It’s covered in the blood and wreckage of my past. Another endeavor I could not spiritually afford. An affirmation. A devastation. The circumference of a broken heart. The radiance of a glowing death. Tears and fears in arrears. The only way to pay for life’s decisions and choices when under duress. How else did you think it was going to turn out? There is no fairytale to hold on to. There are no remembrances, which do not make me cringe. Some would say, “Just hang in there, it’ll work out if you just give it some time.” I feel as though time has run out. Time ran away from me crying and screaming. I truly wish I knew better, But at this point in my life, what the fuck is the point to any of it? The love I had within me died the day I was born.
G.G. Kalfas 